


Politics

by Camlann



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Agni Kai, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camlann/pseuds/Camlann
Summary: It was just politics and he’d never been very good at playing the game.





	

It was politics, a game played by nobility and the Fire Sages that was more complicated that Pai Sho tournaments. It was politics, a game of blood and crowns where the armies were pawns against their own people. 

Forced into a corner, he was never the one that anyone wanted to speak to. Uncle was the heir, and Lu Ten was his prodigy, both living happy lives and he only wished to follow in their footsteps as he wandered the palace halls and learned about the Fire Nation’s place in the world. He had no power at court, unlike his father who was the one that the Fire Sages would call upon for favors, unlike his mother who was the one that took on the weight of the role of Fire Lady without any of the perks after uncle’s wife was gone. Not that he could have had any power at that age, but he hadn’t wanted any then either. Zuko had learned early on that his role was that of heartfelt advisor, little brother to Lu Ten, and favored nephew to Uncle. 

Everything changed when they attacked Ba Sing Se. 

The world had turned upside down when his father began to see his brother as a failure, leaving him treading into unfamiliar territory. His classes changed from recognizing social cues to army regiments, from finesse in bending to power. The shift had caused a stutter in his performance and he had fallen behind, his breathing erratic and movements stiff. 

It had taken years to control his fire to any sort of degree that was fit for a crown prince, and it had taken longer for him to accept that he was any sort of thing in the first place. An imposter in his own home, he still sometimes prayed to Agni that Lu Ten would step through the door and take the burden from his shoulders, help put down his sister and make her see reason, fix the world with his knowledge of tea and diplomacy instead of war and sacrifice. But no such relief ever came and soon, he was burdened with a different task, one far more important than leading the Fire Nation under the guise of politics. 

Aang was a child, someone he may have become friends with had they met when he was still unscarred and wanted nothing more than to feed the turtleducks. Aang was a child, someone that should be playing games and learning the inner workings of Pai Sho instead of choosing whether a madman lived or died at his hands, despite those hands restraining the power of the Avatar. 

Aang was a child. They were not meant for war. 

Despite that, despite all of that, Zuko was standing as a child himself with Katara at his back, looking up at his sister as she was to be crowned. The title of Fire Lord meant nothing when his father had claimed to rule the entire world before that, and he could see where she’d been broken, could see the cracks of betrayal so clearly that he remembered suddenly that she was a child too. A child that was asked to do too much, too quickly, that was dragged to Agni knows where when she was little and saw spirits knew what as he was left to linger at his mother’s side, the Fire Lady’s abilities only enough to save one of them. Azula had always had a thirst to be better, but it had led to her straying too far from where he could reach at too young an age. 

He used to let her ride on his shoulders, once Ty Lee showed them how it worked. She used to laugh without malice and pick fire lilies while they were in bloom and she was only seven when it stopped. She was only seven and now stood broken before him at fourteen. 

Zuko wished with such conviction in that moment that Aang would kill his father it scared him. 

Everyone else fled before their confrontation, except for a girl in blue that Zuko knew they didn’t take seriously enough. No one else had to get hurt, he at least had to try, even when Katara argued with him that this was not the plan. Of course it wasn't the plan, but he still couldn’t see her fight his sister. That was his job. If anyone should hurt her, bring her down, it should be him. He couldn’t see someone else raise their hand to her, no matter what she’d done. 

She was still his baby sister and the nation she stood to take was still his home. Besides, he already has the vague idea that he’d die today, knowing that Azula’s bending would be stronger under the comet’s influence and wilder with the look of madness in her eyes. Hope was a strange thing, as it gave him both the confidence that he would win and the reality that he would die for the betterment of the world. 

But it’s politics, a formality to fight the Agni Kai for honor and rulership. It should be his uncle. It should be his cousin. Both are gone and only he has returned to fight. Thankfully, or perhaps foolishly, he does not stand alone. A woman that has grown in his esteem more than he’d care to admit, the one who trusted him with the darkness in her heart despite the light in her eyes, has joined him. But he doesn’t have time to think about anything but blue, blue, blue and maybe that’s also why he has brought Katara. Her blue was so much different than anything he’d ever known, calm and collected instead of furious and scarring. She could damage, but he trusted her not to, unlike the flames licking at his sister’s hands. It helped, knowing Katara was somewhere behind him, strong and defiant and watchful but allowing him this small relief that came with trying to rectify mistakes. 

He couldn’t bring his cousin back. He couldn’t turn back time and make it so that none of this would ever happen. He couldn’t do anything but fight the way he’d been taught. 

Interesting that he’d learned more from Aang and the others than he’d possibly shown. 

No hesitation. Hesitation killed. Deep breathes were drawn into him, fire poured out, and he felt relieved in a way to finally release the tension through his fists and bending. Focused and secure that he could finally show who he was, what he could do, Zuko fired back everything that was sent at him. The mocking, the arrogance, it stung his pride even now that Azula could still strike so close to his core and distract him. 

Hesitation killed though, and he couldn’t move fast enough to redirect the lightning fully. It ate away at his strength as he fell, a lifetime in a grain of sand through the hourglass, and when he hit the pavement, he knew he had lost. Weaknesses were not tolerated and Azula has his in the palm of her hand. He couldn’t even reach out fully towards her, though he doesn’t exactly worry over Katara failing. Even if she did, she’d find a way out, she was resourceful like that. Facedown, he tried to breathe but found it more difficult than he remembered. There was so much he hadn’t done, hadn’t said, and now there was no time left to do so. 

It was almost an out of body experience, half unconscious on the ground, trembling as his body was wracked by electricity. There was more to the coup than a single fight, he’d already known it would be a struggle to find a foothold in the capital, despite his birthright. How could anyone trust the royal family after the madness and horror they had spread throughout the world? How could Uncle be so sure that he was the right one for the job, after the lies that had been spread of him, magnified a thousandfold by the Ember Island play? Perhaps it had been foolish to come home, expecting anything less than his death, but he’d been convinced it was the right thing to do. 

Seeing the swish of robes behind the pillars, the dulled light of flames that danced with the steps of the sages, he knew that as he had expected the sages had come down to intervene. Even with Katara kneeling over him, healing what she could see, a fracture was growing beneath his ribs and he reached out for her, grabbed her shoulder, forced them up. His sister would cry and convulse all she liked, but he knew her better than anyone else. Azula always lied, but she wasn’t stupid. Her madness may have taken some of her control, but her reasoning would stay as twisted as it was. Her life, her legacy as a ‘good daughter’ was tied to this fight. She would not lose and there were others that would keep going after she had fallen. They arrived just in time. 

The Fire Sages had disappeared, had left no one to bear witness to the whole of the struggle. Now they had returned, saw a waterbender fighting the princess, and not her brother. Dishonorable, intervening in an Agni Kai. False winnings would not lead to the throne of the Fire Nation, they its protector. Their flames licked at their heels as they fled, he could not fight them en masse, not injured as he was, and Zuko knew that nothing was ever that easy. 

Their power was directly tied to Azula, and their leaders want for more meant he could not win this fight. They would ensure their victory by ensuring hers. Her actions would be set against the world, theirs would be to the people.

Stumbling out of the palace, he was not a traitor, but there was little left of him to be called anything but a dead man. Arm slung over Katara’s shoulders, he could barely breathe again and no focused breathing, no power of some comet, would help this time around. Cool hands on his skin did little more than heal the superficial with how fast they were moving, him dragged behind as the fight turned into a victory for the wrong side. Agni help them, he hoped Aang had at least won against his father, the toppling of the Phoenix King would be enough to slow the poison that the Fire Nation royal family had become. The next would be Azula, a puppet to the sages, and then, then it would be him. 

The same blood ran through his veins, the same madness must linger somewhere inside him as well, the same lust for power that led generations astray. He begged Katara to go, hide, save someone that wasn’t destined to fail. She saved him still and he stared at last at the inside of his own eyelids as he passed out. 

Azula was crowned Fire Lord but Ba Sing Se was free. One step forward, two steps back.

The Fire Sages took control, allowed the their new Lord to create havoc searching for a dead man, building up the nation’s borders as they set upon the people that would give them power across the world. False hope, new orders, and the Fire Nation burned. 

Laid on cracked and brittle grasses, convulsing in river water that glowed just enough to light the oncoming night, Zuko shed the idea that he could save anyone, least of all himself. Either way, he would have been chained to power he didn’t want, seated above those he could have helped if he were among them. Somehow, when Katara’s face finally cleared before his eyes, Zuko couldn’t even feel betrayed by those that had known him his entire life. They had what they wanted, Azula had given it to them freely, and now they stood united as their people wept for peace silently. 

It wasn’t betrayal, not really. It was just politics and he’d never been very good at playing the game.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been re-watching Avatar recently and wanted to start a roleplay for it. I had an interesting idea for the background of it, and this was written in response. I really think that it wouldn't be just as easy as winning one fight against Azula for Zuko to take the throne, even if that fight was an Agni Kai, so I began researching and this spawned more ideas, which eventually led to what you've just read. It's also my first attempt writing anything for Avatar, so hopefully it's not awful for the beauty that is the source material. 
> 
> More might be coming depending on if I need to hash out or solidify more of my thoughts on this roleplay idea. Also, I'm still working on my tense changes in my work, but I think I'm doing better than before at catching them.


End file.
